Perfect
by Alex Freakin' Way
Summary: Race is finally eighteen.


It was Racetrack's birthday. Well, obviously, it wasn't his real birthday. He didn't know when that was. But he figured it was sometime around here, in June when it was just starting to get really hot, and he had picked a random day to go from there. And it was today. He was eighteen. He was officially an adult. The feeling was good, so good, that he didn't even get annoyed when Jack cracked about him looking like he had just turned eight.

When he got his papers that day, he was ready to hit the tracks. He almost never won, but it was a good feeling to bet anyway. He sold out before noon, and spent the rest of the afternoon placing bets and raking in money. Because today? He was actually winning. It was a birthday miracle. By the time Race left the tracks, he was five dollars richer. Five. Whole. Dollars. He could do anything!

But of course, he couldn't spend it all. He was eighteen now. His job as a newsie could only last so much longer. He'd have to save it. With a sigh, he made his way back to the lodge. When he got there, he was surprised that no one was out on the street. Yes, it was dark, but it wasn't really that late... was it? He entered the lodge, and jumped in shock. Tons of newsboys were gathered around, talking and drinking and eating God-knew-what.

"Race! You're here! Guys, he's here!" Les, who was probably up way past the time he should be asleep, had somehow gotten over to him. Race had always had a soft spot for that kid. He smiled at him and the n looked around. He spotted Jack and David, and raised an eyebrow.

"What'd you do, Jacky Boy?" He asked, his voice loud so he could be heard over the others. Jack smiled.

"You're eighteen, Race! You don't become an adult every day. We gotcha a party instead of a gift." Race noticed he had started referring to he and David as a "we" more often now, and studied them. David smiled lightly at him, and Race nodded his head. He hadn't ever really gotten close to the new second-in-command, but he liked him well enough.

Before he could even get a drink, Mush had seen him and come at him. Hugging him tightly, Mush yelped in excitement. The just-turned-sixteen year old laughed and soon Blink was right beside him, wrapping his arms around the other two. The seventeen year old grinned at the smaller, yet older, boy and Race grinned back. He spent a lot of the night close to Mush and Blink, who were probably his two closest friends in Manhattan, and grinned when Mush complained about how Jack had forbid him from drinking any alcohol. Although he was growing up, to most of the Newsies, Mush was still the baby of the group.

"Race! Hey, happy birthday!" Dutchy popped up in front of the small Italian suddenly, grinning widely. On either side of him stood another member of the trio, and they all were grinning just as widely.

"You're an adult!" Specs said, sticking his hand out for a shake. He had been eighteen himself for several months now. Race shook it, and then looked at Bumlets. He, too, had been barred from any alcohol, and he looked only slightly peeved.

"Congratulations, Race." the trio then moved away, and Race was suddenly on his own. He had no clue where Mush or Blink had gone. Several other newsies came and talked to him for awhile, Skittery, Pie Eater, Boots, Snitch... Race thanked them all, and was grinning ear to ear.

It was late, and most of the boys were starting to head upstairs to their bunks. Race stayed downstairs, feeling good even though he had a feeling it wasn't his birthday any longer. He held a drink in his hands, and looked around. Soon it was just him and Jack. David and Les had been sent home earlier in the night, and Jack raised an eyebrow at Race.

"Eighteen. I can't believe it. We're getting old." Race laughed and nodded.

"You'll get here soon, Cowboy." Jack smirked, and then glanced out a window.

"Someone's here to see you, Race. I'll see you in the morning." Jack winked at him, and headed up the stairs. Race, looking puzzled, glanced out the window in time to see someone out of the corner of his eye. Before he could process this, the door was opening. Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, stood in the doorway. He was watching Race, a small smirk on his face, and then raised an eyebrow slowly. He didn't say anything, but went back outside letting the door close behind him. Race swallowed, and then followed him,

"You're here." He said softly when he found Spot leaning against the wall of the alley beside the lodge.

"You think I'd miss your eighteenth birthday? You think too little of me, Higgins." Spot said with a laugh. Race moved to stand beside him, and then looked up at the sky.

"You missed the actual birthday." He said, not accusing, just stating. Spot shrugged.

"Tons of 'Hattan boys crammed into a small room? Not my scene. But I'm here now." Race nodded, and reached out without a word. His hand met Spot's, and their fingers intertwined easily. They stood in silence for awhile, before Spot spoke again. "So, how was it?" Race blinked, and tilted his head to the side. He thought for a moment, before answering.

"Perfect."


End file.
